


The War Against the Gabes

by Nightdog_Barks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Gen, Mutation, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-12
Updated: 2007-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-18 04:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/185145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightdog_Barks/pseuds/Nightdog_Barks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>House and Wilson find themselves on opposite sides of a terrible battleground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The War Against the Gabes

**Author's Note:**

> This little story has been languishing in my LJ for a few months now. I don't remember what prompted it. What I do remember is that I really, _really_ hate this particular ficverse.

_**Houseficlet: The War Against the Gabes**_  
 **STATUS:** Crossposted to [](http://house-wilson.livejournal.com/profile)[**house_wilson**](http://house-wilson.livejournal.com/) , 5/12/07. Original dated 2/28/07.  
 **TITLE:** The War Against the Gabes  
 **AUTHOR:** [](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightdog_writes**](http://nightdog-writes.livejournal.com/)  
 **PAIRING:** House-Wilson  
 **RATING:** PG-13, for emotional themes that may prove disturbing to some readers.  
 **WARNINGS:** This is an AU, and not a very nice one.  
 **SPOILERS:** No.  
 **SUMMARY:** House and Wilson find themselves on opposite sides of a terrible battleground.  
 **DISCLAIMER:** Don't own 'em. Never will.  
 **AUTHOR NOTES:** This little story has been languishing in my LJ for a few months now. I don't remember what prompted it. What I do remember is that I really, _really_ hate this particular ficverse.  
 **BETA:** No.

  
 **The War Against the Gabes**

  
House paused outside the hospital room door and looked through the small security window. Inside, he could see the bed placed in the middle of the room. Its occupant was lying on his stomach, unmoving.

The guard by the door was watching House out of the corner of his eye. House turned his head, just a little, and stared him down. It wasn't until the kid had looked at the floor for a full minute that House pulled open the door and went inside.

He sat down heavily in the visitor's chair at the head of the bed and stretched his aching right leg in front of him. He took his pill bottle from his uniform pocket and dry-swallowed two Vicodin. Only then did he allow himself to inspect the patient.

Wilson appeared to be asleep, his right cheek resting on the pillow. His naked body was covered by a soft hospital blanket. His wrists and ankles were restrained, the padded leather cuffs attached to the bed's guardrails. House thought for a moment about pulling back the blanket, looking at the scars, but instead he tapped the nearest guardrail with his cane.

"Hey," he said softly. "Hey, Wilson."

Wilson sighed, moved his head a little. After a moment he opened his eyes. They were still drug-dazed and glassy and he blinked in confusion.

"House? What are you --" His voice died away as he took in the uniform House was wearing. "Oh," he said, and then "oh" again. There was a short silence. "Well, at least the color compliments your eyes."

House felt his lips quirk up at this reminder of the easy friendship they'd once shared.

Wilson shifted a little, pulling gently at his restraints.

"It's necessary," House said. "We can't have you wandering away before you're sent to the re-education camp."

Wilson looked up at him, his eyes dark and hooded. "Plus," Wilson replied, "there's that whole thing about Gabes killing themselves after their wings are removed."

"Sixty-seven percent," House said, quoting the statistics automatically. "The rate is much higher for the children."

"Of course," Wilson murmured. "Can't forget the children." He closed his eyes again.

House watched quietly. It had been years since Wilson had left the hospital -- the pass laws and job restrictions for Gabes had made it impossible for him to stay. He'd followed his brother and disappeared into the underground network, the roiling nether lands of safe houses and menial, meaningless jobs. They might never have found him if it hadn't been for Tritter.

A Gabe working as a police detective -- it had been a wake-up call, a reminder that vigilance could not be allowed to lapse. The Gabe had resisted hard interrogation for two weeks, only breaking when his interrogation team had stretched his wings to their full extension and begun pulling the quills out one by one. House had seen the tape; the Gabe, his arms tied above his head, had screamed as he gave up the names of the twenty or so others of his kind that he knew about. One of those names had been Wilson's.

Of course, the Gabe's wings had been cut off anyway and disposed of -- doubtless burnt in one of the ceremonial Cleansing Fires. Not long afterwards he'd managed to hang himself in his cell, and that was the end of that story.

House hoped Wilson knew how lucky he was that House had saved him. He'd been taken into custody by one of the Special Units, admitted to the hospital, and had his wings surgically removed all in one day. No hack prison surgeons for him, who typically butchered their captive patients by removing more muscle than necessary.

He rubbed his leg again, wondering briefly what had happened to Wilson's wings. Also burnt, he supposed. He'd seen them only once -- they'd been brown, the same color as Wilson's eyes, with black hawk-bars stippling the vanes. Despite countless theories, experiments, and autopsies, no one had yet discovered how they could unfold from between the Gabes' shoulderblades and then disappear again with equal ease.

House sighed. Maybe they'd never know, and it really didn't matter anymore. The cleansing would go on regardless. Wilson would be one of the lucky ones; sent to a camp instead of being killed out of hand.

The drugs appeared to have taken hold again; Wilson was asleep, his hands limp in the leather prisoner's cuffs. Grunting, House used his cane as a brace to push himself out of his chair and limped out of the room.

  
That night he dreamed -- of boundless skies, of freedom, of diving and soaring in the open air. He came to rest on solid ground, Wilson beside him. His leg didn't hurt, and he shivered in Wilson's embrace. A shadow rose up, blocking out the sun, and he shivered again as the Gabriel's wings folded round about him.

~ fin


End file.
